


If You Like Piña Coladas

by DamsonDaForge



Category: Star Trek The Next Generation
Genre: A rum old recipe for disaster, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Conduct Unbecoming, Experimental, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex, android sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27224950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DamsonDaForge/pseuds/DamsonDaForge
Summary: When Data and Geordi get creative in the bedroom, there are potentially serious consequences for La Forge's career...
Relationships: Data/Geordi La Forge
Comments: 15
Kudos: 75
Collections: Spicy DaForge (NSFW)





	If You Like Piña Coladas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [strangesaturday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangesaturday/gifts).



> Inspired by strangesaturday's suggestion that 'Piña Colada' might be Geordi's flavour of choice. I hope you enjoy this naughty, potentially career-wrecking bit of smut-with-consequenses.

* * *

“If it’s taking too long to synthesise, we can leave it for now.”

“It is almost complete. I do not wish to disappoint you.”

Geordi grinned. “You couldn’t ever do that.”

“I promised you Piña Colada and I have been able to replicate the recipe. It will only be a few more minutes.”

“I can’t wait to see how it compares.”

“Favourably, I hope. I have used the most popular version listed in the ship’s database.”

They had been experimenting with different flavours ever since they realised that Data had this ability. It had hit Geordi one day that a fairly simple modification to his bio-fluidic processing would mean Data’s ejaculate would be far more palatable and quite possibly delicious.

When Data had quite brashly offered to create the complex flavour of a Piña Colada, Geordi had had his doubts, but he wasn’t about to dissuade him. 

A little while later, Geordi’s head was buried in Data’s groin. The spray of his partner’s modified release was spilling into his mouth and it was very definitely Piña Colada. Geordi gulped it down, and he had to hand it to Data, it was delightfully flavoursome. 

Oh and Data’s orgasms were so prim! The way his body jerked with a very particular resonance and the little uh-uh-uh sounds he made sent Geordi crazy. His aura shivered. It was the only way Geordi could describe the way his unique glow was affected by the peaking of his sexual cycle.

He kept working Data, his android orgasm going on and on. There was a seemingly endless stream of pineapple, coconut and rum flavoured fluid being pleasured from the android’s body. So much so, that Geordi was starting to feel a little light-headed. He needed a breath. He let Data’s hard, gold cock slip from his mouth and the last sweet swirl of the Piña Colada was swallowed down.

“Geordi,” Data said, a little dazed and looking down. “How was it?”

“I have to say, Data, it was pretty perfect.”

A sweet, pride-filled little smile curled its way onto Data’s face. “Thank you, Geordi. I can report that your oral technique is likewise ‘pretty perfect’. There is still a considerable reserve of this particular flavour.”

Data trying to be coy and not directly asking for what he clearly wanted was downright adorable.

Geordi arched an eyebrow. “Is that right?”

“Yes. Should you wish to continue, I would not be averse.”

“If _I_ wish?” Geordi teased, nuzzling Data’s still erect penis. It twitched at the delicate contact and Data’s aura likewise trembled.

To enable him to orgasm had been another modification, this time with a small addition to Data’s abdominal tech. Geordi had designed a small, independent servo that linked to his sexual programing but bypassed his higher functions. That way, Data could have an experience which was as close to the real thing as Geordi could get for him – sensations taking over from conscious control. Data could stay hard and keep coming for as long as Geordi worked on him. It was wonderful to be able to give him that gift, but it could be exhausting. But the night was young and Geordi had the promise of more of Data’s delicious concoction awaiting him.

He went down on Data again, whose clipped little gasps and stiff little hip thrusts delighted Geordi. As he gave pleasure – yes, _pleasure_ – to this wonder of the universe, Data came again, Piña Colada flooding over Geordi’s hard-working tongue. He swallowed and Data moaned and bucked harder into Geordi’s mouth. He grinned around Data’s erection and then redoubled his efforts, intent on emptying Data of every last drop of this very particular cocktail.

*~*~*~*

He was being gently shaken awake.

“You will be late for your shift if you do not get out of bed,” Data said.

“What time is it?” Geordi mumbled from under the covers.

“0636 hours.”

He replied with a groan and rolled out of bed, barking his shin on a bedside table that shouldn’t have been there.

“Ow! What? Why is that there?” Geordi put out his hand and felt for the offending piece of furniture.

“Have you forgotten?” said Data.

“Forgotten what?” replied Geordi, his head hurting worse than usual. Different than usual.

“You spent the night in my quarters. The bedside table has not moved, but you appear to be oriented as if towards the shower in your own quarters. I do not have a shower.”

“Damn it,” said Geordi, rubbing his leg with one hand whilst his other hand snagged his VISOR off that self-same side table.

Clicking it into place caused the dull thud of pain to settle ever more deeply into Geordi’s head. He got dressed, having great difficulty putting on his socks for some reason. Just as he managed it, Data held up his boots. Shoving his feet in, Geordi stood, gave Data a long kiss goodbye and then he was hurrying to his own quarters.

There was just time to shower, brush his teeth and change his uniform, though as he scurried towards the turbolift, his mouth still felt like Spot had used it for a litter tray.

He scraped into Engineering with three minutes to spare. His team for the 0700 hours briefing had already begun to assemble around the master systems display, but he wasn’t the last to arrive, thank goodness. For once, Geordi was grateful for Reg’s perpetual issues with punctuality.

The briefing was a struggle to get through. He kept losing the thread of what he was saying, rambling on until Duffy or Gomez pulled him back on track.

“Right. Is that everything?” he said, peering at his PADD of notes but still not sure. It was hard to make out what was written there.

Sonya leaned over into his personal space and scrolled down for him.

“Looks like it, yes, sir.”

“Thank God for that.” Geordi shook his muzzy, aching head. “That took ages.”

“Sir?” said Gomez. “Are you okay?”

His staff were still gathered around the table, glancing at each other, not sure if they were dismissed or not.

“You can go,” he said, waving the PADD at them.

All but Gomez did as they were ordered. She remained, frowning at him.

“Are you okay? You seem a little off. If you don’t mind me saying. Though I should say, if I think you’re ill. Is that right? Are you okay?”

It took Geordi’s head a second or two to catch up with Sonya’s stream of consciousness.

“Sure,” he said, nodding at her in what he hoped was a reassuring and convincing manner while his head pounded.

“Is that it’s okay to say, or that you’re okay, or both?”

It was Geordi’s turn to frown. “What?”

“You’re not with it at all this morning, are you?” Sonya said.

“I’ve got a headache, that’s all. And I feel a little bit woozy.”

“You should go to Sickbay, sir. You’re not right.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s just a headache.”

“No,” said Gomez. “I don’t think it is.”

Plucking the PADD out of his hand and taking hold of his arm, she propelled him out of Engineering and into the nearest turbolift.

Sonya deposited him on the biobed, explained to Dr Crusher why she’d brought him in and then, with a maternal glance over her shoulder, she returned to Engineering. 

Geordi’s head was spinning, his vision was all over the place and he was feeling more and more nauseous. Maybe there was something wrong with him.

Beverly was scanning him with her tricorder. She was moving the small, detachable drum-like device around his head.

“This doesn’t look like your usual headache,” Dr Crusher said, tapping through the results. “It’s more global. Does it feel different?”

“I guess.” His VISOR-induced headaches tended to drill into his temples and arc back over his ears. This one seemed to encompass his whole head. “And I’m having trouble with my words and keeping a train of thought. That’s different.”

Beverly seemed puzzled by the results and his description. “You’re dehydrated too, which won’t help. Did you have breakfast this morning?”

“Uh, no. I got up a little late, so there wasn’t time.”

“Not even for a glass of orange juice?”

“No.”

“Any you’re sleeping okay, not stressed about anything?”

“No, everything’s fine. Great, really.”

Beverly tapped away on her tricorder, frowned, tapped away a little more and then Geordi saw not only her frown deepen, but also the colour in her face. She flushed a deep, fiery red in his vision. Her pulse went up and there were microscopic increases in tension around her eyes and mouth.

She scanned him again and Geordi watched her expression go from doctorly concern to something like distain. It was only there for a split second, but it was unmistakable. Her manner then became a little brusque.

“What was the last thing you had to drink?”

“Uh, wine with dinner last night.”

“Synthahol?”

“Of course. What’s wrong?”

“Your blood alcohol level is more than 160 milligrams per 100ml. To put it plainly, Commander, you’re drunk.”

“ _What_?” said Geordi. “That’s not possible!”

She showed him the reading. He looked from tricorder to doctor and back again, in total disbelief.

“I can do a blood test, if you want.”

“I don’t understand. I… I don’t know how this happened!”

“We can figure that out later,” said Beverly.

She stalked over to the replicator and returned with a hypospray. She pressed it into the side of Geordi’s neck.

“This should sober you up,” she said, still a little terse.

It took effect almost immediately, the pain eased off, the nausea evaporated and cold, stark reality began to hit home. Then something else hit and it was like a photon torpedo going off in his head. Wine with dinner wasn’t technically the last thing he’d drunk.

“Oh… oh God.” Geordi’s hand was over his mouth.

The terrible realisation of what had happened seeped through his nervous system, shorting out all rational thought and leaving only panic in its wake.

“I’m going to have to report this.” Beverly glared at him. “I don’t have any discretion. You were drunk on duty.”

“I understand,” Geordi said, the words a thick, choking mass in his mouth.

Like a rat in a trap, his mind scrabbled for some way out, for some way to save his career and save face. But there was none. There was nothing that could be done and nowhere he could turn.

He was done for.

*~*~*~*

“I’m waiting for your explanation, Commander.”

Geordi was standing ramrod-straight in front of Captain Picard’s desk. His heart was rattling against his ribcage and thudding in his throat. The walls of the Ready Room felt as though they were closing in. 

“I don’t have one, sir.”

What could he say? The truth was horrifically embarrassing, painfully ridiculous and it would excuse nothing if he disclosed it. There was also _no way_ he was going to drag Data into this.

He could feel Picard’s eyes boring holes into him.

“I am frankly astonished that you, of all people, would report for duty whilst under the influence of alcohol. You are the _Chief Engineer_! Do I have to spell out to you the potentially catastrophic consequences of your actions this morning?”

The Captain was livid and rightly so. But worse than that, he was _disappointed._ He was aghast. It was a horrible, horrible thing to have let down Jean-Luc Picard. 

“No, sir,” Geordi said, feeling sick.

“I’ll give you one last chance, Mr La Forge.” Picard’s exasperation was burning off him like a series of solar flares. “Are you able to offer anything by way of an explanation?”

“No, sir.”

Picard exhaled loudly and then seemed to consider something.

“Do you have a problem with alcohol?” the Captain asked, not unkindly.

“No, sir,” Geordi said softly.

“And you are unwilling or unable to offer any mitigation?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you leave me no option. You are hereby suspended from duty pending disciplinary proceedings. You’ll be notified of a date for the hearing in due course.”

Geordi felt the floor open up beneath him and his stomach dropped through it.

“Aye, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

Geordi made his way out of the Ready Room on legs that felt like jello. Everyone’s eyes were on him. Most desperately, he could feel Data’s plaintive gaze upon him and the urge to flee from it was intense.

He dived into the turbolift and by the time he got to his quarters he was a shaking, dithering mess. Geordi sank onto the sofa and held his head in trembling hands, his whole world on the brink of collapse.

*~*~*~*

“The Captain asked me to come and see you.”

Deanna was at the door. Geordi had wondered how long it would be. The answer to that question: less than an hour.

“Can I come in?” she asked, still in the corridor.

“Sure,” he said, unenthusiastically. 

Refusing seemed pointless, she would already have the details and could no doubt feel his churning, upended emotions. But still, raking over it whilst it was all so raw wasn’t exactly top of his list of things to do.

She sat down on the far end of the sofa, giving him some space.

“So,” he said, “who else knows?”

“Will, Data and Worf know why,” she said gently. “And obviously, your team know that you’ve been suspended.”

Geordi nodded. His team. His Engineering staff. They made up just under 20% of the Enterprise’s crew. Nearly two hundred people. That pretty much guaranteed it would be all around the ship by the end of the shift.

“What have I done?” he murmured to himself.

“I don’t know,” Deanna said. “What _have_ you done?”

“Just… careless. Careless and stupid.”

“I don’t think so. You’re neither of those things, so do you want to try again?”

“Not especially.”

“You may have heard,” said Deanna, folding her hands in her lap, “I can sense things about people.”

Geordi glanced sideways at her.

“No?” he said, feigning surprise. “ _Really_?”

She smiled. “So you know that I know you’re not telling the whole truth.”

“I don’t want to get into it.”

“I know that is it something hugely private. Something that you are very, very reluctant to speak about.”

“Then can you respect that? If I don’t want to discuss it?”

“It's my job to get people to open up about painful, difficult things. Your career is on the line, Geordi. Shame and embarrassment are powerful emotions, but the first step in tackling them is to admit the problem exists.”

“You’re speaking as though a confession will fix it. It won’t. An explanation won’t make this any better.”

“How can you know that?” she said. Then Deanna cocked her head. She took in a short, sharp breath. “You’re protecting someone.”

His VISOR was pretty good at picking up certain humanoid emotions, but Deanna’s skills were on another level. There was no point denying it, so Geordi remained silent while Deanna’s large, dark eyes pored over him as if he were an open book.

“I can’t help you if you won’t help yourself,” Deanna said.

“There isn’t anything you can do. There isn’t anything anyone can do.”

Before Deanna could answer, the comm system carried Captain Picard’s voice into Geordi’s quarters.

“Would you join me in my Ready Room, Mr La Forge?”

Geordi’s head dropped and he stared at the floor.

“Aye, sir. I’m on my way.”

Perhaps the Captain had decided to rule on his case right away. It wasn’t as if there was some huge investigation that was required. The facts were the facts and he wasn’t disputing them. As he walked with Deanna in silence to the turbolift, Geordi was contemplating what his future now held.

He was trying to resign himself to whatever it was that the Captain had decided. He could lose his position as Chief Engineer. He could lose his rank and be busted back down to Ensign. Hell, he could lose his commission completely, because a dishonourable discharge was very much on the table.

Deanna stepped out onto the Bridge first and headed to her seat. Geordi noticed immediately that Data wasn’t at Ops as he should have been. As he approached the Ready Room, a twist of concern skewered Geordi’s malaise. He pressed the button on the door panel and waited, thoughts churning.

“Come,” came the order.

Geordi stepped forward and as the doors slid open, his heart sank.

As he had feared, Data was stood in front of Captain Picard’s desk. The look on the Captain’s face was unreadable. 

“Commander,” Picard said as Geordi took his place next to Data. “Mr Data has been…” His stoic expression faltered as he groped for the right words. “Mr Data has _elaborated_ on— ahem. On the… circumstances which led to this morning’s incident.”

Geordi turned to look at Data as the realisation exploded through his head - Picard _knew._ It was a chain reaction of swearing, shock, horror and shame raging through his mind. 

Picard was staring into the dark surface of his table, clearly trying to be diplomatic with his next statement.

“He has made an impassioned plea for leniency on your behalf,” the Captain continued. “The private lives of my crew are exactly that. I have no wish to… to curtail any particular… um… _intimacies.”_

 _Oh God,_ thought Geordi. _Oh God, just kill me. Kill me now._

Data stood impassive next to him, having clearly given the Captain chapter and verse on the cause of his intoxication. Burning with shame, Geordi was actually starting to feel a bit faint.

“However,” Picard intoned, “when those activities contact operational matters, I have little choice but to intervene.”

Geordi swayed a little. His skin felt too tight and too hot and it was peppered with sweat.

“It was my oversight,” Data said, cutting through the roar of blood in Geordi’s ears. He sounded oh-so reasonable as he sought to excuse the events of that morning. “I negated to mention that the recipe I had replicated was based on data collated from, and dominated by, Rio de Janeiro, Risa, Algedi III and the resorts of Kali Prime. These are holiday destinations, which tend to supply fully alcoholic beverages. Geordi was not aware of this. It was not his oversight, Captain,” the android repeated. “It was mine.”

A rush of protective energy flashed through Geordi. 

“Data,” he said, his voice a little sharp. “This wasn’t your fault.”

“I believe it was,” Data replied.

“You should have _at least_ discussed this with me first.”

“I anticipated that you would feel antipathy towards my decision.”

“So you went behind my back?”

“ _Gentlemen_!” Picard shouted. “This is neither the time nor the place for a lovers’ tiff!”

Geordi faced forward and set his shoulders. Data’s gaze, imploring Geordi to understand, remained on him for a beat, before it re-settled onto the Captain.

“I have considered the situation in light of the information Mr Data has provided,” Picard said. “If you are willing to waive your right to a formal hearing, I am ready to rule on this matter.”

Geordi stood there, pinned like a bug in one of his dad’s collections. He deserved whatever he had coming to him.

“I waive my right, sir,” he said, his voice sounding far away in his own ears.

“Commander La Forge,” Picard stated. “For reporting for duty whilst under the influence of alcohol, you are to be confined to quarters for a period of 28 days. You will have no contact with any rank below that of full Commander and your computer access will be restricted. This incident will remain on your record for a period of five years.”

“Yes, sir,” said Geordi. The relief was overwhelming, threatening to take him off his feet. “Thank you, sir.”

“Think yourself lucky you’re still in post,” said Picard. “This could have had a very, _very_ different outcome.”

“I do, sir,” Geordi replied. “I do.”

“Mr Worf, report to my Ready Room.”

The Security Chief entered, a deeper scowl than usual on his face. Disgust probably, Geordi guessed and couldn’t blame him.

“Will you escort Commander La Forge to his quarters and post a guard. He is to be confined for a period of 28 days.”

“Aye, sir.”

As Geordi moved to leave with Worf, Data hesitated at the Captain’s desk.

“You’re dismissed too, Mr Data,” Picard said to the hovering android.

“I do not understand,” said Data. “What is to be my punishment?”

Picard sighed deeply. “Would you wait outside for a moment, Lieutenant? Mr La Forge, you can remain.”

“Aye, sir,” said Worf and exited the room.

Geordi turned back and stood next to Data, whose open, confused expression was hurting Geordi’s heart.

“Data,” Picard said with a sigh, “I’m not sure what you expect me to do. Your part in this occurred whilst you were off duty and in your own quarters. It even occurred within your own body.”

“Was it not a dereliction on my part to not inform Geordi?”

“A dereliction, perhaps, but not of duty. Commander La Forge, however, reported to Engineering whilst impaired,” Picard said. “That was his decision and his alone. The consequences of that fall upon him, Mr Data.”

“But the alcohol he unknowingly consumed will have impaired that decision-making process.” Data seemed bewildered and it pained Geordi to see him this upset.

“And you have made that point in mitigation," Picard said. "I gave it full weight when making my ruling. Mr La Forge would not have gotten off so lightly without that representation.”

“This would not have happened at all had I not chosen that particular recipe. Or if I had alerted Geordi to the alcoholic nature of the blend. I am as culpable, if not more so, than Geordi in this matter.”

“Then your punishment will be enduring Geordi being punished in your stead, as you see it.”

Data looked stricken.

“Captain,” he began, subtle distress marring his usually placid features. “Please. Re-consider.”

“I have made my ruling, Mr Data.” Picard’s voice was firm. “I will not have my orders questioned further on this. Is that understood?”

There was a pause. A long one. Geordi held his breath.

“Aye, sir,” Data said, sounding small and defeated. 

“It’ll be fine,” said Geordi, aching with love.

"Mr Worf," the Captain said and the Klingon re-entered.

As Worf led him away, Geordi gave Data a little nod – _I’ll be okay –_ and he was hugely relieved to see Data reciprocate.

28 days without seeing Data was going to be tough. 28 days without speaking to him. 28 days without being able to hold him. All those hours and days and weeks started to pile onto Geordi’s chest and he had to fight off a sudden panic.

It _was_ going to be tough, but he could do this. They were going to be okay. 

*~*~*~*

It had only been a few hours and Geordi was already crawling the walls. His day, hell, his whole week had been planned and structured, and everything he had programmed and arranged and scheduled had gone out of the airlock.

He milled about his quarters, not able to settle. The feeling that he should be _doing something_ was relentless, a constant irritant, nagging and gnawing away at him. It felt so wrong and he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Geordi thought about catching up on some reading, but he couldn’t concentrate. The restlessness inside his head wouldn’t let him relax into the book. The fact that he’d narrowly avoided wrecking his whole career was still careening around in his brain – he’d avoided severe sanction by the skin of his teeth. He was so grateful that he still had his job, but that burn of shame? Knowing that the Captain knew meant that Geordi had had to knock the ambient temperature down a few degrees, because this level of humiliation? Would have kept him toasty on an ice moon in his underwear.

He got up and started pacing around.

How many hours was 28 days? Before he could shut up his traitorous, idiot brain, it had spat out the answer: six hundred and seventy two. Battling to stop his idle mind from next working out many minutes that was, he had an idea.

“Computer,” Geordi said in desperation, “play some Andorian Crash Metal – anything, as long as it’s loud.”

An eruption of sound devastated Geordi’s ears and exploded into his brain, obliterating any and all thoughts. It was a riot of noise, a cacophony, there was barely a tune to be found in any of the electronic howls and screams. It was perfect, even though it sounded like a supercomputer being murdered by a horde of axe-wielding, opera-singing Klingons. This aural uproar translated into a kind of mental peace and for the first time that day, Geordi started to relax.

A little while later, having dialled down the music, Geordi noticed something odd. There was a strange, repetitive flicker from the lights in his room. It wasn’t anything anyone else would notice, as it was deep in the far infra-red, but it was very clear to Geordi.

There were three short flickers, then three long, then short-long-short, short-long-short again and then long-short-long-long.

Geordi knew what this was. More to the point, he knew _who_ this was.

“ _Data_!” he murmured under his breath, his heart leaping as emotion surged.

The lighting continued to flicker with that same pattern. It was just one word, repeated: _Sorry_

“If we get caught,” said Geordi out loud to no one, “we’re gonna be in a whole heap of trouble.”

He went to the lighting panel in his quarters and pulled it open, working out how to send a message back which only Data would be able to detect.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if you now have *that* song burrowing into your brain like a ceti eel - it's been going round and round my head for _days_

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [escape](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27716414) by [strangesaturday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangesaturday/pseuds/strangesaturday)




End file.
